


We are a company of beggars

by Masterofceremonies



Category: Original Work, Supernatural, The Beggar's Opera, The Three Penny Opera
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 06:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5858161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterofceremonies/pseuds/Masterofceremonies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer visits the leader of a traveling theater troupe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We are a company of beggars

His name was Emcee and he was the leader of a company of beggars. They had just gotten through another round of a theater competition that was paying very well. His beggars were elated. He was exhausted. It showed plainly on his face when no one was looking. If one of his gang looked over he would smile and laugh, or wave to them, but as soon as they looked away his face fell into a worn and tired expression. He was still in charge though, and he didn’t give up the reigns for a second. He corralled everyone from the theater into their “dressing room”, which was one old classroom and a bathroom with a cracked mirror, and made sure everything was packed. The strain was getting to him, and the smiles became more forced, the laughs more hollow. He gathered them all in the lobby, where he told them to get one last meal in, and take what they could with them. They did so as he got the drivers to pull the busses around. The beggars naturally separated into two herds, and filed onto each bus. He took attendance, made sure the things were accounted for, and then they started off.

The inside of the buses were a sight to behold. Most of the seats had been ripped out, and replaced with everything from mattresses to armchairs, even a couch bolted to the floor. Blankets were everywhere, hung from the racks where the beggar’s luggage was stowed, or strewn about the floor. Everyone huddled up with his or her own little subgroup, pairing off to sleep or chat. One of the lead actors was passed out with another in his arms, another behind him, and a fourth using his legs as a pillow. Another lit up a joint, took a long drag, then passed it to a girl still in her makeup, who got black lipstick all over the paper.

Emcee sat in the back, in one of the only remaining bus seats, and watched, he had thrown on a sweatshirt and had a blanket wrapped around him, but he still shook. Someone passed him a cigarette and he took a quick drag, handing it to the next person before putting on his headphones and tugging his hood up. He looked like he needed a lot of sleep, but he stayed awake, choosing to watch over his beggars, a protective eye, making sure no one would come into any stress. His eyes landed on another beggar sitting alone, a young boy, curled up in one of the armchairs who’s eyes looked puffy in the light from the passing street lamps.

He sat next to the boy and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, looking concerned but comforting. They exchanged words and Emcee gestured to the smoking beggar. The young boy nodded. Emcee called the smoking beggar over and spoke to him as he finished his joint, shaking his head and gesturing for Emcee to move. Emcee got up and the beggar spoke to the boy, who was now softly smiling. Emcee went back to his seat, leaving his blanket behind. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered.

“You know, there are ways to warm up that don’t involve blankets.” A man, much older than anyone in the company, slid next to Emcee. His face hardened, and he turned away from the man who looked exaggeratedly hurt. “Oh come on, the silent treatment again? You know I can make you talk.” He rested his hand on Emcee's thigh and stroked his thumb back and forth. “Or at least I can make you scream.”

“Not now. I’m tired.” Emcee whispered, under his breath.

“If not now, when?” The man pouted. “You’re always tired, or you have a headache, or you keep screaming “STOP” really loudly.”

“There’s a reason for that.” He muttered.

“I know.” The man shrugged, stood up, and looked around. “I’m going to give you a chance to make it easy on yourself. Draw the curtains shut, tell them you’re going to sleep.” He gestured to the blankets hung around them that could be closed to obscure the chair from view. Emcee looked around, hesitantly before standing and closing the curtains. Someone looked at him confusedly and he explained he was going to sleep. This did not alleviate suspicion.

Emcee slipped inside the curtains and sat down tensely. The man was now seated close to the window, but when Emcee sat down, he slid closer and wrapped his hands around his wrists.

“I think you’re beautiful when you’re afraid.” He murmured.

“I’m not afraid, I’m angry.” Emcee spat and the man tsked.

“I don’t think so.” He smiled and sat back looking intensely at Emcee. There was a long tense moment before his blue eyes began to burn white, and his hair went from blond to a molten gold. Emcee tried to turn away, but he reached out a hand, the skin an ashy white now, and grasped his chin, forcing him to watch. Emcee made a choked whimpering noise as wings began to sprout from the man’s back and curled around both of them.  

“Please.” He whispered. “Please, stop.”

"Oh darling." Lucifer purred. "Don't be silly."

Emcee was shaking, but his eyes were fixed on the angel's.

"I'm **_never _** going to stop."


End file.
